


Soft

by ABrighterDarkness



Series: Bucky Barnes Bingo [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Cold Weather, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Touch-Starved, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25583698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness
Summary: It hadn’t been long after he had been recovered from the Artic that Steve had developed a deep, aching craving for things that were soft and warm or, preferably, both.  For a man who was born and then built for fighting, to be able to withstand so much of the world’s harshness, maybe that shouldn’t have come as so much of a surprise.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Bucky Barnes Bingo [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687492
Comments: 16
Kudos: 197
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, Stucky Bingo 2020





	Soft

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a few weeks since I've posted anything up, mostly because I'm working through a couple of longer fics right now that I'm very excited to eventually be able to share. 
> 
> This one is for my Stucky and Bucky bingos. A big thanks to MrsMoodybear for help with beta-ing this.

January in New York was no joke. Temperatures had dipped well below freezing earlier in the week and it didn’t look like it was supposed to climb any higher than absolutely frigid anytime soon. It was as though once the hype and excitement of the end of year holidays passed and life settled back into some semblance of normal, nature took it upon herself to make that readjustment as miserable as possible. 

The snow was pretty for the first few hours, especially when it fell in the dead of night. But then foot and vehicle traffic quickly turned the pristine coating into the dirty sludge that would likely stick around unattractively for the rest of the month. 

Steve didn’t really feel the effects of the cold anymore, at least not like he would have as a child. It didn’t steal his breath and put him on death’s doorstep anymore. He could, if he chose, take his morning runs in the same light, simple gear that he would use during July without risking illness or anything more problematic than simply being uncomfortably cold. 

Being exposed to such bitterly cold temperatures certainly wouldn’t kill him like it might the average baseline human. That, Steve knew for a fact. Well, he supposed at this point, nearly the whole world knew that being battered, drowned, and frozen weren’t things that would kill him. 

Knowing that, however, didn’t make the bitter cold winters any more pleasant to experience. 

It hadn’t been long after he had been recovered from the Artic that Steve had developed a deep, aching craving for things that were soft and warm or, preferably, both. For a man who was born and then built for fighting, to be able to withstand so much of the world’s harshness, maybe that shouldn’t have come as so much of a surprise. 

He had hated it, initially. That want for people and things. Steve could recall the first winter in the modern century, walking down the sidewalk with the need to get lost among the many, many people making their way wherever they might be going. A woman passed him talking rapidly on her cellphone. The outer shell of her heavy winter coat had looked so, so very soft and warm that Steve had to curl his hands into tight fists to stay the urge to reach out and touch. Just to see if it was as soft as it looked.

After that, he noticed the tendency more and more. It turned from deep self-loathing to resignation. 

Ample amounts of money or no, Steve didn’t buy himself those things. He didn’t indulge and wouldn’t allow himself to. It was a  _ want _ not a  _ need. _ Not yet, he told himself. Maybe someday softness would be something that he could allow himself to be. Maybe someday he would be able to walk away from the fight, lay down the shield and just  _ be. _ But for the time being, Steve Rogers wasn’t meant for soft and warm. Soft and warm stopped being his to have when he stepped into Howard Stark’s machine. 

He was meant for harsh fury and the fight. 

Everything else, anything that suggested otherwise, was locked down in the back of his mind. Steve’s quarters in Avengers tower stayed cool and neutral. His clothes remained simple and practical. It wasn’t until the previous summer when they recovered Bucky that Steve realized he had unintentionally extended that cool distance to his interactions with his teammates, generally shying away from any contact warmer than a handshake or a careful pat on the back or shoulder. 

It wasn’t that he disliked the hugs that Tony and Thor were surprisingly free with, or the feeling of Natasha affectionately kissing his cheek or scratching her fingers through his hair. He loved the casual affection his team was able to show one another. He craved it in the same way his fingers itched when Natasha wore that particularly fuzzy sweater--which had been an admittedly surreal sight the first time she wore it. 

He couldn’t help the way he automatically tensed or flinched away from the way the touch sent a jolt of shivering warmth through his body. Somehow, his mind translated wanting to lean  _ into _ the touch as needing to jerk away from it. Steve knew that they had noticed even if, for once, none of them had pressed for answers so far.

Bucky had been in the tower for six months, slowly settling back into his mind and relearning what it was to be an autonomous human being. Steve hadn’t and wouldn’t press him more than he already had about what memories might have been recovered. He thought that after so very long of having no control over anything, he could give Bucky full control over what, if anything, their relationship might consist of going forward. 

Steve hadn’t counted on the speculative way that Bucky watched him. Watched his interactions with the team. Watched him in the quiet moments when they were alone, just the two of them, in their apartment. Steve couldn’t place what it was about it that put him so on edge in a way he couldn’t recall ever feeling around Bucky. It was unsettling, not knowing what it was that Bucky was looking for or what he may or may not be seeing.

It was late that night, or maybe early morning by that point but Steve couldn’t be bothered to figure out the specifics. Both he and Bucky had been chased from their respective beds by the nightmares that haunted each of them. They settled on opposite ends of the terribly stiff leather couch that took up much of the living room and Steve’s attention locked onto the wall of windows. It was snowing again. The flurries were almost hypnotizing to watch but did little to chase away the ghosts of the war that still clung tightly to his mind.

It wasn’t just the ice and crashing the plane that haunted him, though it was certainly high on the list of things that revisited him in his dreams. The cold and the snow drew out memories and horrors from the war just as often. The train. The raids. All of them held featured roles in his dreamscapes. 

“Steve,” Bucky said, voice staying rough and quiet in the dimness of the room. Steve pulled his attention back from the spiraling of this nightmare soaked thoughts, brows arched expectantly. 

Bucky paused for a moment before continuing, speaking slowly as though weighing each word as he spoke it. “You’re not okay either, are you?”

Steve wasn’t sure if it was the bluntness of the question or the simple fact that it very well might be the first time he had been asked anything like that since he awoke in that terrifyingly confusing room at SHIELD but he found himself answering simply but with full honesty. “No,” he answered softly. 

“Come here, Punk,” Bucky said, voice staying low as he extended the arm nearest to Steve. 

Steve hesitated, thrown by the offer of such casual contact. It wasn’t a thing they did, not anymore. Not since Bucky had returned, anyway. After a moment, he slowly slid across the awful leather cushions knowing that Bucky didn’t do any better with sudden movements than he did, even when it was expected. Steve exhaled slow and quiet when Bucky’s arm settled over his shoulders, gently tugging him closer. 

After a moment of just barely leaning into Bucky’s hold, Bucky huffed quietly and tugged more firmly until Steve leaned into him more comfortably. Steve gave in and settled more firmly against him, for once allowing himself to indulge in the touch and the bolts of warmth that radiated through him from the points of contact.

To Steve’s surprise, Bucky didn’t press further about his answer. He didn’t ask questions that Steve wouldn’t have had any idea how to go about answering. Instead, they stayed quiet for a long stretch, just taking the offered comfort.

When Bucky did finally speak, he still didn’t press instead asked curiously, “Did you pick out this couch?”

Steve snorted a laugh, startled by the question. “No, it's the one that Tony already had set up here when I moved in.”

“Kinda figured,” Bucky nodded in understanding.

“Why’s that?”

“It’s awful,” Bucky said with an amusing crinkle to nis noise. “I didn’t think this was something that you would pick if you had the option.”

“It really is,” Steve agreed. 

“Why haven't you gotten something different to replace it?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “I haven’t really figured out the kind of things I would like, I guess? It always seemed like it wasn’t really the most important thing to give my attention to. It’s not great but it works for its purpose.”

“Maybe not the most important thing in comparison to the fate of the world,” Bucky said with a shrug of his own. “But if this is your home now, you should think about it. You deserve nice things too, Stevie.”

“It’s yours too,” Steve pointed out hesitantly. “We could do that. If you wanted.”

“Fancier than the last one, isn’t it?” Bucky smirked.

“Even the worst apartments now are probably fancier than our last one Buck,” Steve snorted. 

“It wasn’t so bad,” Bucky said consideringly.

“No,” Steve agreed. “No, it was good for us at the time. And you were there. That was the important part.”

“We could always go find a couple single beds and put them into one off those big ass bedrooms here,” Bucky teased. “Make it seem a little more like home if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“What’s the point in that?” Steve laughed. “We only ever used one of them anyway.”

“No chance of you catching a chill in this place,” Bucky said, a hint of awe in his voice as he spoke. “Even if you were still the little guy, you’d be safe here.”

“A lot of my old illnesses are actually manageable now too,” Steve agreed. “I think there’s already been some work done to have the necessary medications on hand in case someone actually manages to find a way to reverse what the serum’s done for me.”

“Are they worried about that?” Bucky frowned.

“I’m not sure?” Steve replied. “I think that it’s just a precautionary thing but I’m glad we have it in place.”

“Yeah, me too,” Bucky nodded. He fell silent for a moment and his arm tightened around Steve and released. “We’ll get there, Stevie. Both of us.”

“It’s not gonna be easy,” Steve sighed.

“Doesn’t have to be easy, does it?” Bucky asked. “Nothin’ was ever really easy for us but we did it anyway. It was tough then and it’ll be tough now. Doesn’t mean we won’t get there.”

“I know,” Steve admitted quietly. 

“I had Natalia help me with something,” Bucky said, suddenly changing the topic, his tone shifting from quiet and steady to more crisp and, if Steve was understanding correctly, some small amount of nervousness.

“Oh?” Steve questioned.

“I had her pick something up for you,” Bucky hedged. “Got it in my room, c’mon.”

Bucky withdrew the arm that he had wrapped around Steve’s shoulders and nudged him until he got up. Seemingly without thinking about the gesture, Bucky caught Steve’s hand in his own and let him down the short hallway to the room that Bucky had claimed. Bucky nodded in the direction of his bed as he diverted to the closet. Steve settled onto the bed uncertainly.

Bucky didn’t speak as he dug around for whatever the gift might be. After a moment, he turned back to face Steve and Steve zeroed his attention onto the bundled material in Bucky’s arms. His fingers itched and he automatically curled his hands into fists to avoid the urge to reach out and touch.

“Don’t do that,” Bucky scolded gently. “I noticed, you know. The way you eye those blankets that Stark stockpiles down in the lounge and Natalia’s sweaters. Watched how you avoid them. You don’t have to.”

Bucky proceeded to shake the folds out of the material. The blanket was easily large enough to fit the king sized beds that they each had in their respective rooms. But the size wasn’t what had caught Steve’s attention. It was a footnote well below the fact that whatever the blanket was made from looked ridiculously plush and soft, maybe even more so than Nat’s fuzzy socks and sweaters. Bucky didn’t give him the opportunity to respond before approaching and easily flinging the blanket out until he could drape it over Steve. The size of the blanket meant that it could easily wrap around Steve entirely. 

After a moment of hesitation, Steve gave into the urge to curl his fingers into the soft material. He felt an odd shiver work its way through him for reasons he couldn’t begin to try to explain. A glance up to where Bucky still stood in front of him, watching, he thought maybe Bucky understood anyway.

“Thank you,” Steve said quietly.

“Thank me by leaving the harsh shit on the field,” Bucky responded. “I think we could both do with a little more soft to balance it all out.”

Steve considered the words for a moment and then extended an arm in a mirror of what Bucky had done out on the couch, lifting and opening the blanket in offering. Bucky huffed a quiet laugh but sat on the bed beside him, adjusting the blanket until it wrapped comfortably around both of them. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how, but somewhere between hugging Bucky with one arm and petting the soft blanket with his opposite hand, his mind quieted. And somewhere in that time, they went from sitting on the edge of the bed with the blanket wrapped around them to laying properly on the bed, curled together with the blanket draped over.

It was still dark outside and it was still snowing. Temperatures were still well below absolutely frigid. But maybe Bucky was right about needing some softness to balance out the harshness of their realities. Lying there in silence next to Bucky, his fingers interlaced with metal ones and his opposite hand fiddling with the plush fabric covering them, he wonders why he shied away from the softness for so long and how it was that Bucky never failed to break through those boundary line walls that Steve seemed to consistently build and guard. 

He was fairly certain that despite the horrors that had chased them from their respective beds earlier that night, they both at least dozed a few hours together. The room was considerably brighter and the snow had stopped the next time Steve was alert enough to take stock of his surroundings. He had no doubt that it was still miserably cold out but it looked as though the sun was making an attempt at being visible.

Beside him, Bucky was awake and watching him. Always watching. Steve wondered what else he saw. Bucky had always been the observant sort, he doubted that was a skill that had fallen into disuse. Steve offered a small smile, “Morning, Buck.”

“Morning,” Bucky echoes quietly. 

Steve wondered if he should move, get up and face the day. Go for his run. The thought of leaving the warm little cocoon they had and going outside into the cold, even for the rush of a good run, settles like lead in his stomach. 

In the end, Bucky made the decision for him. He stretched out fully, arms over his head and toes pointed and even mostly covered still by the blanket Steve couldn’t seem to make his eyes behave. Ages ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it but that was before. That wasn’t a thing that was his to have anymore. 

Steve could feel his face heating but before he could come up with his excuses to leave the room, Bucky relaxed from the stretch and shifted closer. Bucky’s head settled into the curve of his shoulder and arm across his waist in the way that was so very familiar that it made Steve’s heart ache painfully. 

He used to question how that could be remotely comfortable, back when he was little more than skin, bones, and bad attitude. It never seemed to bother Bucky that he was resting his head against hard bone no matter how much Steve had tried to weakly protest. He had loved it then, regardless of what he said otherwise. He thought he might love it now too.

“I missed you,” Steve said quietly and then immediately wished he could take the words back. He had worked so hard to keep that silent, to not push or press. To let Bucky take the lead and control of whatever came of them.

“I know,” Bucky answered. “We’ll find our stride again. Just gotta work through the rough spots to find it.”

The use of ‘we’ sunk into Steve’s mind before he could brace against it. That didn’t sound anything like the rejection that Steve had spent months preparing himself for. He exhaled slowly, attempting to slow the rush that washed over him. “You remember that?” Steve asked, hesitantly.

“Loving you?” Bucky snorted a quiet laugh. “Steve, pretty sure that was one of the first things I got back. Everything else was just too jumbled to tell up from down or make sense of what it was. Took me a while. Still having to relearn some of it but, yeah Stevie, I remember that.”

“Oh,” Steve breathed, stunned and unsure what else he could say or do in the face of the admission.

“Just hold me, Punk, ain’t that hard,” Bucky drawled.

Despite not being able to clearly see his face from the angle they were laying, Steve could hear the smirking amusement lacing the words. He moved his arm to wrap around Bucky’s back, holding him close into his side where Bucky’s head still rested against his chest. Hesitantly, he let his hand stroke over Bucky’s side. 

It was strange, going from the insistent avoidance of such casual touch and soft things to holding Bucky snugly against him like they used to do a century ago, legs tangled and the plush, soft, warmth of the massive blanket pulled over them. It toed the line of being overwhelming and Steve thought that, were it anyone else, it probably would have crossed over that line. As it was, it had been a very, very long time since Steve could remember feeling quiet so warm and safe.

Steve didn’t go on his usual morning run. It wasn’t until well after their stomachs first began to rumble in protest that they finally detangled and climbed out of bed in search of breakfast. Even then though, Steve snagged the blanket before he left Bucky’s bedroom and the rest of the day was spent on the stiff leather couch curled together under the softness. 

He knew that everything wasn’t suddenly better. The couch probably wasn’t going to be replaced anytime soon, regardless of the cool stiffness that he loathed more than he could describe. Despite Bucky’s entreaty to allow themselves softness when off the field, Steve knew himself well enough to know that he was unlikely to make any sort of comfort-oriented wardrobe changes in the near future. 

Eventually, he would get there. He would get past his hesitations and reluctance. Someday, he would be able to accept the casual, affectionate hugs from Tony and Thor and Natasha without automatically flinching away first. Maybe someday, he’d even get the nerve to ask Natasha where she found those fuzzy socks she always seemed to wear around the tower.

For now though, when the missions were over and Steve was able to set the shield aside, he had this. He had Bucky leaning heavily against him as they watched something mindless on the television. He had the warm, soft blanket in a pretty teal and could allow himself to touch it when his fingers itched to touch. 

January in New York was bitter and cold but, maybe Steve didn’t have to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Stucky Bingo  
> Title: Soft  
> Creator: ABrighterDarkness  
> Card Number: 048  
> Link:  
> Square Filled: A4 - Winter  
> Rating: T  
> Archive Warnings: N/A  
> Major Tags: Winter, Cold Weather, Touch-Starved, Cuddling  
> Summary: It hadn’t been long after he had been recovered from the Artic that Steve had developed a deep, aching craving for things that were soft and warm or, preferably, both. For a man who was born and then built for fighting, to be able to withstand so much of the world’s harshness, maybe that shouldn’t have come as so much of a surprise.  
> Word Count:
> 
> Bucky Barnes Bingo  
> Title: Soft  
> Square Filled: U2 - Touch Starvation  
> Pairing/Main Ship: Bucky/Steve  
> Rating: T  
> Warnings/Triggers: N/A  
> Summary: It hadn’t been long after he had been recovered from the Artic that Steve had developed a deep, aching craving for things that were soft and warm or, preferably, both. For a man who was born and then built for fighting, to be able to withstand so much of the world’s harshness, maybe that shouldn’t have come as so much of a surprise.  
> Word Count:


End file.
